


two out of three aint bad

by pancake_potch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Co-Dependency, EWE?, F/M, Post War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancake_potch/pseuds/pancake_potch
Summary: Ginny watches Harry and Hermione after the war.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my first attempt at HP fiction, so go easy on me! I hope I did Ginny justice because she’s not my fave character by any means, but I did want to make her sympathetic. 
> 
> Inspired by Meatloaf’s Two Out of Three Aint Bad.

_I poured it on and I poured it out_

_I tried to show you just how much I care_

_I'm tired of words and I'm too hoarse to shout_

_-Meat Loaf_

 

 

Two out of the three had built a wall, brick by brick around them. She had suspected that it had happened when she heard Ron had come home without them during their travels. His abandonment had poured and solidified the foundation of their bond and whether he had chosen not to acknowledge it or if he cared, Ginny wasn’t sure.

 

She didn’t think Harry or Hermione were aware of it.

 

\---

 

Their mother had spent her time cooking, baking pies, rolling dough, washing cookware. Casserole dishes, tins, serving platters had piled up in the kitchen saved by warming or cooling charms. Stacks upon stacks of food had assembled on the vast kitchen counters.

 

Harry, Hermione, Ginny, George, and Ron had made their way down for breakfast only to be overwhelmed by the food set up as a buffet.

 

“Blimey,” Ron uttered to himself, “this might be the best spread I’ve seen since Bill’s wedding.” A sad chuckle escaped Ginny’s lips, trying to forget the last time her _complete_ family were together.

 

\---

 

She woke to the door opening. Gripping her wand under her pillow, she willed herself to take a breath.

_The war is over. The war is over. The war is over._

 

Opening her eyes enough to peer through her lashes, a figure crept inside and tiptoed in. Ginny was about to fling herself up and unleash hexes until she heard a whisper.

 

“Hermione?”

 

Ginny froze. _Harry?_

“Hermione?” Harry’s whisper came out more urgent.

 

“Harry?” She heard Hermione answer from the bed near the window, voice rough with sleep.

 

There was a shuffle of bedding. “Do you mind? If I…?”

 

“’Course, Harry. Come on.” Hermione’s voice was still scratchy, but there wasn’t the normal confusion at having been woken up in the middle of the night. Apparently, this was nothing new.

 

“Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

 

Harry’s response was muffled as he shifted around in Hermione’s bed. “No…it’s…I don’t want to wake Gin.”

 

Ginny lay immobilized as she listened to Harry take comfort in Hermione’s bed even though _she_ was _right there_. He hadn’t even _thought_ to seek consolation with her. Didn’t they know _she_ had nightmares, too? That when she closed _her_ eyes she could still feel the dust in her lungs from collapsing stones of the halls she walked everyday. The smell of blood that tinged her nostrils. The static of magic that pulsed around her as she tried to fight. She turned away from them, silent tears running down her nose.

 

She curled up in the fetal position, the ache in her stomach growing stronger the longer she listened to their breaths slow as they fell asleep.

 

She woke earlier than usual with her throat tight and her eyes still swollen. Ginny turned to look out the window to gauge what time it was when she caught sight of Harry and Hermione, tucked away.

 

Wand in hand, she stared down at them. It looked innocent. They weren’t twined together like lovers; merely side-by-side under the old quilt some Weasley relative had made years and years ago. The ache in her stomach was back when she saw the outline of their hands together, a round lump.

 

\---

 

Love, _true love_ , Ginny knew was something rare and delicate and something so precious one should hold on with both hands. She waited as patiently as she could for Harry to initiate something that would indicate that he’d hold up his promise.

 

It was _after_ , now.

 

It was _after_ , and they had _survived_ when others didn’t, and wasn’t that enough reason to live? To carry on, even as they mired themselves in the deepest of grief was what she wanted, and she couldn’t do that as her heart was suspended in limbo.

So, she bit her tongue and waited and watched Harry even as she could see that there were never than one person between him and Hermione when they were in the same room. If ever there _was_ one in a room without the other, Ginny could tick the seconds down before the other came wandering in, eyes searching-relief plain to see.

 

Ron hadn’t voiced any opinions on his friends’ odd dependence on each other, but then Ginny could see he spent his time with George- a familial co-dependency -that she hoped would ease the agony of losing a twin.

 

Where she fit in wasn’t as certain. She helped her mother dither around in the kitchen or perched herself on a stool, silent, in her father’s shed as he listlessly tinkered.

 

It was if she were some spinning entity without an orbit, haphazardly colliding into others whenever the nightmares got too bad.

 

\---

 

Her mother dropped a pan that clanged so loudly, everyone in the sitting room jerked toward the sound, wands raised. Harry instinctually flung an arm towards Hermione shielding her without sparing anyone else a glance.

 

\---

 

Ginny would see them whispering to each other, talking as if there were no one else around. Hermione would be on the sofa with a book, legs stretched on Harry’s lap as he languidly tossed around a snitch.

 

It was this sort of intimacy that made Ginny burn with jealousy. It was the kind of jealousy that set fire to her veins and threatened to burst out, until the guilt turned her mouth to ash. There was no room for envy or possessiveness here.

 

\---

 

The staggered breathing of her roommate woke her up. She went to grasp her wand, only to find it already clenched in her fist.

 

“Hermione?” The moonlight shrouded Hermione as she sat in front of the window, chest heaving.

 

“I’m,” Hermione looked as if she were wiping tears from her cheeks, “sorry. I-bad dream.”

 

Ginny sat up. “Do you want to talk about it?” She didn’t know if she really wanted to hear about it because she had her own to deal with, yet it came out without second thought. She’d been saying those words more than any others, it seemed.

 

“No. I just…I need a glass of water. Sorry to wake you.”

 

She watched the shadow of the older witch slink out the door, closing it softly behind her.

 

It was dawn when Ginny woke up alone in the room. There was no sign Hermione came back, no glass of water on the nightstand.

 

Her feet took her to the bedroom door of her older brother. Inside, Hermione was curled into Harry, his arm draped over her. The next bed over was Ron, mouth open and arm dangling off the edge of the bed.

 

A silent tear slid down her face because she _knew_ that she really didn’t have a place with them- with Harry. This was the Golden Trio that fought their own war that no one else was privy to. These three were now adult weapons honed as children, with nearly nothing except each other for years.

 

Watching them, she could see the ghost of the children they barely had a chance of being.

 

A shifting of fabric broke her thoughts and her eyes darted to the bed Harry and Hermione occupied. Harry had shifted so his chin rested more squarely on Hermione’s head as she unconsciously buried herself deeper into his chest.

 

Ginny slowly backed out, hands shaking and heart drumming.

 

\---

“I dunno, Gin.” He said.

 

“I…I know, but maybe just…anything. Just, tell me something to hold onto.” It sounded like a plea, and maybe it was. Ginny needed to hear the words that would solidify her place at his side- be it now or later.

 

She didn’t want to be that girl. Simpering and begging for attention from a man, yet here she was. Ginny had just wanted to feel _something_ other than guilt and loss, _anything_ that would ease her back into some sort of normality.

 

Maybe not happiness, but something close to it.

 

“It’s over. I mean, I _know_ it’s over but…being here? Being _here_ feels like I’m reliving it, yeah? I can’t.”

 

“Harry?”

 

“I have to. It’s-it’s not you. It’s just that I can’t be here. Grimmauld is,” he sighed, “where I need to be. Hermione and I are leaving.” Harry thumbed the handle of his mug, not willing to meet her eyes.

 

 _That_ was a stab in the heart. “Hermione?” The name of her friend somehow hurt more than Harry’s distance, physical and mental. Hurtful, but not unexpected by any means.

 

“Yeah. We decided time away would be good.”

 

“What about Ron?” What about Ron? Would he just let the two of them run off without him?

 

“M not sure. I think he’s taking the auror position. Er, maybe he will once George and the shop are settled.” He scratched the back of his head and sighed.

 

Panic clamped down on her chest as she listened to his words.

 

“We just,” he paused and looked down at the tabletop, “it’s hard. We’re not Weasleys. And her and I need to leave for a bit.” Harry looked at Ginny, searching her face. “You understand?”

 

Oh, it hurt.

 

“Yes. Of course,” she choked out.

 

\---

 

She floo’d in unexpectedly on the invitation that she was welcome any time. She found them on the couch in the sitting room holding hands again. They were always so close physically. Arms around shoulders, hands intertwined. Hugs too close…holding on for far too long for Ginny’s comfort. They gripped each other too desperately.

 

Her heart cracked every time they were… _like the way they were._

Before she even attended Hogwarts, she knew Harry Potter. A hero, a celebrity. Ginny knew that her brother, Harry, and Hermione had sewn themselves together some time around their first year.

 

But now? It became obvious that Ron’s end had unraveled and he’d unknowingly let loose the thread of their carefully woven connection. The more Harry and Hermione were together, the more it became obvious that the strings that held them together were too taut and short. When they were too far apart physically the invisible string somehow snapped them back together.

 

Ginny hesitantly agreed to stay for dinner at Hermione’s urging, despite wanting to lash out or run away. But, she wanted to be bigger. Show Harry that she was willing to wait and that she would accept any bit of attention from him to prove that she was worth keeping around. That she was worth his love.

 

The kitchen in Grimmauld was still a sorry sight. Dust covered cobwebs laced the corners and dirt was lodged in cracks and spaces, but to watch Harry and Hermione made it feel like a sunny, cozy place. Their magic twined as they prepared pans and ingredients. Ginny felt more like an outsider than ever before even as they both cajoled her into helping.

 

Ginny forced a smile on her face as they bantered about. “I have to say, I _never_ want to see a mushroom again for as long as I live,” Harry said, laughter in his voice.

 

“I was doing the best I could, Harry!” Hermione responded incredulously. “But yes. I am inclined to agree-don’t turn that burner on yet- I could happily live with never again consuming the bounty of the forest. _Any_ forest. _Ever_.”

 

“Course not. Next time we go camping, we’ll bring half of Sainsbury’s with us.”

 

Hermione stopped stirring a pot and gaped at him. “If you think, Harry Potter, that I will willingly step _one foot_ inside a tent within the next ten years, you are _sorely_ mistaken.”

 

Harry laughed and elbowed her side as the stood together at the stove, their backs to Ginny as if she wasn’t even there.

 

\---

 

Later, after considerable time staring at the ceiling of her now empty room, Ginny had come to the conclusion that no matter what promises were made and how she truly felt for Harry, the relationship she wanted wasn’t ever going to come to fruition. The carefully guarded plans of wedding dresses and fantasies of grand declarations of love seemed childish and naïve.

How stupid she was to think she’d ever wedge herself into Harry’s life after everything.

 

How stupid she was to think she’d ever compare to Hermione Granger.

 

 

_And all I can do is keep on telling you_

_I want you, I need you_

_But-there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you_

_Now don't be sad_

_'Cause two out of three ain't bad_

_-Meatloaf_


End file.
